


Shelter Me

by persephades



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Dubious Consent, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Omega!Clarke, Protective!Bellamy, Protectiveness, The 100 WTFluff Challenge, WTFluff, alpha!bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephades/pseuds/persephades
Summary: She also knows that her doctor and parents think she will be an Omega, and she doesn’t think she likes that at all. All the boys talked about Omegas like they were made to serve Alphas, and that doesn’t sound like something she wants to do. Apparently, they can give orders that she won’t be able to fight against. It’s not fair.Clarke climbs up into her treehouse as soon as she gets home. Well, it’s not her treehouse. It belongs to the Blake’s, her next-door neighbors. But Bellamy, her best friend, said she could play on it whenever she wants. Clarke doesn’t play today, though.A childhood friends meets A/B/O fic written for WTFluff





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Childhood friends + A/B/O + Underage (and by underage, I mean Bell at 18 and Clarke at 15, so if that's going to be a problem, just click the back button right now)

It starts like most things do. Clarke gets scared.

The words _Alpha_ and _Omega_ were terms she was vaguely familiar with just from listening in to her parents’ conversations, but she had no definitions for them until that day of first grade. Miss Diyoza spends thirty minutes teaching their class about it, but some of the boys already knew all about it, so Clarke learns much more while waiting in the car rider line at the end of the day.

She sits silently in the car on the way home, vaguely telling her dad what Miss Diyoza taught them today but leaving out the horrifying details the boys at school told her after. Clarke finds herself watching her dad though the rearview mirror, wondering if he does some of the things to her mom that the boys were talking about. She knows that both of her parents are Alphas, which is rare and probably means they don’t do the same stuff that the boys were saying. She also knows that her doctor and parents think she will be an Omega, and she doesn’t think she likes that at all. All the boys talked about Omegas like they were made to serve Alphas, and that doesn’t sound like something she wants to do. Apparently, they can give orders that she won’t be able to fight against. It’s not fair.

Clarke climbs up into her treehouse as soon as she gets home. Well, it’s not her treehouse. It belongs to the Blake’s, her next-door neighbors. But Bellamy, her best friend, said she could play on it whenever she wants. Clarke doesn’t play today, though.

She just cries and imagines one of those boys from school claiming her one day. Teeth sinking into her skin, teeth that don’t belong to an Alpha who loves her, just one who wants to control her. Then, there’s the scary knot. That part makes no sense to her. Where is it? How does it get inside her? What she does know is that she doesn’t want anything like a knot swelling inside her. Or teeth on her skin. Or an Alpha who makes her do what he wants.

“Clarke?” Octavia whispers. She’s a year younger than Clarke, just starting kindergarten this year. Her dark hair is in two identical pigtail braids with bows on each end, and those braids bounce as she climbs the rest of the way up into the treehouse. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke just shakes her head. She doesn’t want to scare Octavia. She’s too little to know about this stuff yet. But Clarke doesn’t protest when Octavia plops down beside her and pulls her into a hug. They sit like that for a while, and it starts to get dark outside.

“O?” Bellamy calls out, probably from the backdoor of their house. It’s probably dinner time.

“It’s okay,” Clarke whispers, wiping her tears with her jacket sleeve. Octavia climbs down and grass rustles as she runs back to the house. Their door squeaks shut, but she still hears some rustling in the grass.

“Clarke?” she hears Bellamy whisper. His feet thud on each rung as he climbs up into the treehouse until she finally sees his dark mess of curls at the top. “What’s going on?”

“We learned about Alphas and Omegas today,” she whispers. “I didn’t want to tell Octavia and scare her too.”

In the dark of the treehouse, Clarke can make out the concern washing across Bellamy’s features. He’s three years older than her and likes to pretend that he doesn’t care about a lot of things, but he’s never been able to manage that where Clarke is concerned. Bellamy fusses over every scraped knee and hurt feeling that Clarke gets.

Like Octavia, Bellamy settles beside Clarke and pulls her in for a hug. But unlike Octavia, he’s bigger and warmer. Her cheek rests against his chest, and though she’s crying, her chest feels lighter. Something about being close to him like this always makes her feel better. Maybe it’s because he’s so warm all the time. Or maybe it’s because he smells so good.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he tells her, and she wants to believe him. “It’s not… it’s different than you think.”

“I don’t want an Alpha to hurt me.”

“They won’t hurt you,” Bellamy sighs. When Clarke looks up, something strange washes across his face. “A good Alpha won’t hurt you,” he corrects.

“They’re gonna bite me and put a knot in me,” she explains, and Bellamy grips her a little tighter. “And they’re gonna tell me what to do, Bell! I don’t like being told what to do!”

“Okay, okay,” he huffs. “The bite is only going to hurt a little. Like when you went to get your ears pierced.” Clarke furrows her eyebrows and thinks that over. Yeah, it hurt to get her ears pierced, but she likes having the sparkly pink studs and being the only girl in class who has been allowed to get them pierced. So, maybe that part won’t be so bad. “I hear the knot thing doesn’t hurt at all. Apparently, both Alphas and Omegas think the knot thing feels good.” That doesn’t make any sense to Clarke, but Bellamy doesn’t lie to her, so it must be true.

“What about them telling me what to do?”

“Alpha commands,” Bellamy supplies. “It’s not that you have to do what they say. But there’s this voice in your head that really wants to do what they say.” Clarke is about to say that she told him so when he puts a finger over her lips to silence her. “Alphas have a voice like that too. It tells them to take care of their Omega. You know, like protect them and stuff. So, it’s not like a good Alpha will use a command to hurt you.”

Vaguely, she recalls Miss Diyoza talking about the protectiveness that Alphas feel for their Omegas, but Clarke’s head was spinning with knots and biting that she didn’t really pay attention.

“They like to take care of people… kind of like how you take care of me?” she asks. With a slight chuckle, Bellamy nods. “Are you going to be an Alpha, Bell?”

“I think so.”

Oh, then Alphas can’t be all bad. She loves Bellamy. He can be mean sometimes, but never to Clarke. He stood up for her when that Murphy kid down the street started picking on her. And he’s here right now because she’s scared and he wants to help her.

“I’m not saying that all Alphas are good. My father wasn’t,” Bellamy whispers. He never talks about his dad, so she knows this must be serious. “I just don’t want you to be scared. You just have to find a good one.”

“Like you?”

His dark, brown eyes find hers in the dark. His brows are furrowed, almost like he’s upset by what she just said. Clarke squirms out of his arms and backs into the wall of the treehouse. Her arms wrap around her legs and she buries her face into her knees. Something about what she said is wrong, and though she can’t figure out what it is exactly, she hates herself for upsetting him with it.

“Clarke,” Bellamy whispers, and she just shakes her head against her knees. “Come here.” Clarke doesn’t want to, but she also doesn’t want to make him upset by not doing it. She doesn’t know what to do. “Come here,” he repeats, and though she thinks she should stay in her little corner and leave him alone, she obeys. His hand finds her bony back and begins rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“It’s stupid.” Clarke never says that word. Mom says it’s a cuss word, but she hears all the boys at school whisper it at recess. It feels kind of nice to say it. Like getting away with stealing an extra cookie after her parents think she’s asleep.

“It’s not. Just tell me.”

“It’s just… okay, you said a good Alpha would take care of me like you do. So, could you just be my Alpha?” As soon as the words are out, Clarke’s mind starts working though it all. He could mark her right now and get it over with. A little pinch of pain like getting her ears pierced, and then it’s over. She wouldn’t have to worry about a bad Alpha claiming her because she would be Bellamy’s forever.

“We’re too young.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Neither of us have presented yet. It might not work.”

“But it could. We should try!”

“No,” Bellamy snaps, and the word feels like rubber band stinging her sensitive skin like Murphy sometimes did to her at lunch. Bellamy doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to be her Alpha.

Tears sting in her eyes and she shoves Bellamy off her. He calls after her as she crawls toward the ladder, but she ignores him. She doesn’t have to listen to him, anyway. He’s not her Alpha.

His hand wraps around her wrist and he pulls her back. “Clarke,” he says, calmer than before. Tears form in her eyes again, and though she’s mad at him, she doesn’t fight him when he pulls her back into his chest. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t,” she sobs into his shirt. “A bad Alpha is going to take me and hurt me!” His grip tightens around her. “You’re not always going to take care of me and one day some other Alpha—”

It happens so fast. Her curls are swept to the side, Bellamy bends down, and teeth sink into her neck. It hurts worse than getting her ears pierced did, but there’s something calming about feeling his arms around her while she’s hurt. Clarke doesn’t cry out like she normally does. Tears flow down her cheeks, but she doesn’t make a sound.

When Bellamy pulls back, she swears she sees tears forming in his eyes too. He dabs his eyes quickly with his sleeve, but it’s too late. She already saw him crying.

“It’s okay now. No other Alpha will come anywhere near you,” he promises, keeping his eyes fixed on her neck. Clarke’s fingers reach up to touch the mark, and blood coats her fingertips. Bellamy reaches forward and dabs at it with his sleeve until it stops bleeding. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

A weight lifts off her. He’s right. She has no reason to be scared. Bellamy would never hurt her.

“I’m not scared,” she promises. All anxiety leaves his face, and a beautiful smile forms on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke doesn’t feel any different, but maybe that doesn’t happen until she presents as an Omega. She and Bellamy keep playing together after school, but when Bellamy gets to fifth grade, he has too much homework to spend as much time with her. Still, he always finds her at lunch and checks up on her each night.

When he starts middle school, it gets harder to stay his best friend. He still loves her, she knows, but it’s not exactly cool for an eleven-year-old boy to spend all his time with his eight-year-old neighbor. Bellamy tries out for the middle school football team and makes a whole bunch of new friends, and Clarke meets Wells Jaha at school. They still hang out in the treehouse from time to time, but more often than not, they just leave each other notes in the treehouse. Clarke draws him pictures all the time, and he tells him in his notes to her that he has a wall in his room where he hangs them all up.

Summers are better. They run around with Octavia playing tag or doing races or anything else Bellamy can come up with. Bellamy makes the best microwave s’mores when Clarke and Octavia have sleepovers. And sometimes, after Octavia goes to sleep, Clarke sneaks into Bellamy’s room and sleeps in his bed. Those are her favorite nights. His bed smells so much like him, and he’s all warm when she presses against him. She always wakes up to find him already awake, mindlessly rubbing his fingers over the healed over mark that he left on her neck. But she has to leave before Mrs. Blake wakes up. It was okay when they were younger, but now that she’s ten and he’s thirteen, they’re not allowed to do this anymore for some reason.

When Clarke turns eleven, two major things change: her mom gets a new job four hours away and Bellamy presents as an Alpha.

Clarke sobs during her goodbyes with the Blake’s, and she clings to Bellamy as tightly as she can while her mom pulls the door of the U-Haul shut. They’re going to talk, they promise. Send packages and talk on the phone every day.

But it takes Clarke almost a week to get the first phone call from Bellamy at her new house. He sounds different on the phone, but she can’t seem to get a question in with all of his. He wants to know about her new school and friends. He apologizes profusely for not calling sooner, saying something about not feeling well. It takes a lot of whining and prodding for him to admit that he finally presented and went into his first rut.

Now that Clarke’s older, she understands these things a little better. She knows what a knot is and knows that it forms inside her while she has sex with her Alpha, but she can’t quite picture it. Not when she barely understands how sex is supposed to work. It’s still a little scary, but if she ever does it, it will be with Bellamy. He’ll make sure not to hurt her. He always does.

Things change between them. She can’t tell if it’s because he’s presented now or because they don’t see each other much anymore. It’s probably a combination of both. They can’t sneak up to the treehouse anymore, and there are no more sleepovers for Clarke to sneak into his bed during. Clarke misses his touch but no where near as much as Bellamy misses hers.

Sometimes, he sounds like he’s in pain when he tells her how much he misses her. She starts reading more books about Alphas to make sense of it, and after a few months of their long-distance phone calls, she figures out why. Mates aren’t supposed to be separated.

Bellamy had gone back and forth over the years wondering if him marking her actually worked. It was hard to tell if there was a change in behavior because Clarke already clung to Bellamy and he was already fiercely protective of her. Clarke hadn’t contributed much to Bellamy’s confusion over if anything changed because as far as she was concerned, if it didn’t work back then, she’d just have Bellamy do it again when she presented and everything would be okay.

But his distress now that Clarke lives hours away proves that it really did happen. And though Clarke is relieved to know for certain that they’re bonded, she also feels guilty for it. He’s in pain now because of it. If they had just waited like they were supposed to, this never would have happened.

“I’d still miss you this much,” he tells her over the phone when she breaks down crying over it.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. And it’s not that bad.” It’s a lie, and they both know it. Too much is changing in him all at once. Alpha aggression is hard enough to learn how to deal with. But Bellamy has that and a mating bond to deal with too. It’s driving him mad.

Not sure of what else she can do, she starts sending him care packages. Clarke fills an entire notebook of drawings for him, bakes the banana bread he’s always liked, and puts in pictures of everything from her room to her new school to the horrible bangs her mom talked her into. It’s the only thing she can think of to help him feel like he’s here with her.

He cries on the phone the day he gets it, happier than she remembers him being ever since she moved away. His favorite part is how everything in the box smells just like her. Clarke beams for days, playing over his sweet words in response to her present. She made him happy.

The next week, she gets one from him. There are pictures of him in his football uniform and a few of him and Octavia. He looks bigger. No longer the skinny kid she grew up with. More filled out with muscles and a few more inches of height added on. At the bottom of the box is his folded-up football team sweatshirt, the one Clarke always borrowed when Octavia had her over for a sleepover. The note attached said it doesn’t fit him anymore and that he thought Clarke might want it. Once she has it on, Bellamy’s scent hits her full on, and she begins crying just like he did when he got his care package. She had forgotten what he smelled like, and now, she feels like she’s back in that treehouse being held by him that night she got scared about Alphas. Just the sweatshirt wrapped around her is enough to make her feel safe in the way only he can.

Through the years, they send each other care packages whenever they can. Clarke amasses a huge collection of his old shirts and jackets, each worn until the scent finally fades away. Each picture he mails seems to show him another few inches taller, while Clarke seems to be done growing taller by thirteen. That doesn’t stop the rest of her from growing, which a few boys at her school seem to notice. She wonders if Bellamy has noticed. He probably has, just like she’s noticed how he’s changed from lanky boy to muscled Alpha in just a few short years. But the two of them never really talk about that. It feels weird even as they near the ten-year mark from when Bellamy marked her. They’re mates but they don’t flirt or tell each other they’re pretty or handsome. They act just as they always have. They love each other, but the way friends should, not the way mates do.

“I wish I were pretty like Harper,” she says one night on the phone, scrolling through her Facebook timeline. It’s fishing for a compliment, which is kind of pathetic. But she wants to know if he thinks she’s pretty. Clarke has always thought he is. The freckles of his are a weak spot for her and she itches to touch them again.

“You are pretty,” he groans.

“You’ve never said that before.”

“Well, I don’t like to think about it.” Clarke pushes her desk chair back and furrows her brows. That doesn’t make any sense at all.

“Why not?”

There’s a long silence before he whispers in a low voice, “You know why.” It can’t be because of her age. She’s fourteen to his seventeen, so it’s not like it would be weird now. She doesn’t get to the bottom of it before he adds, “And it’s hard to think about how pretty you are knowing that you’re hours away and surrounded by other Alphas who might try something.”

“You’re my Alpha, Bell,” she reminds. A strangled groan comes from the phone.

“Clarke,” he rasps, voice low still. “You’re killing me.”

Heat rises to her cheeks. Since Clarke still hasn’t presented, she doesn’t always realize that certain things she says affects him. She’s read enough books on the subject to know that calling him her Alpha will have an effect on him, but it still slips her mind from time to time. She needs to get better about it. He already misses her like crazy. Adding anymore heat to it would just be torture for him.

“Sorry,” she sighs. “I forgot.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” he promises. “It’s okay.”

“Does it hurt? You know, when I say things like that?”

“No,” he says, but his voice breaks slightly. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. Really good. That’s the problem. It just, uh, reminds me how much I want something that I can’t have.”

Clarke’s back straightens and she bites down on her bottom lip. She’s the something he can’t have and the something he wants. Bellamy wants her. Needs her, even. He’s scared to think about her as pretty because if he thinks about how much he wants her, he might go into rut.

She should feel guilty since this is all her fault. She’s the one who got scared and begged him to claim her. And Clarke does feel a little guilty. But that guilt is drowned out by the warmth that pools in her stomach at the sound of Bellamy admitting that he wants her. His Omega.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jk this is gonna be four chapters because i'm still trying to figure out how to write a/b/o smut

Clarke presents when she’s fifteen. It starts at the end of school day on a Friday while she’s waiting outside for her mom to pick her up. The spot on her neck where Bellamy bit her all those years ago itches, and sweat drips down her back despite it being a crisp fall afternoon. Minutes and minutes pass, yet her mom doesn’t show up. Clarke calls her in a panic and is sent straight to voicemail. She checks the family calendar on her phone and drops every cuss word she knows when she’s reminded that her mom is flying to her conference right now and her dad won’t be back from his business trip until next Tuesday. Clarke was supposed to find a ride home from school and completely forgot.

Harper finds her shaking against the brick wall and ends up taking her home. Harper is a Beta, so she doesn’t know how to help Clarke other than to drive her back to her house.

Once inside her empty home, Clarke dials Bellamy. It’s hours before she normally calls, and when he picks up on the first ring, he knows something is wrong.

“Bell,” she whimpers.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he chokes out.

“It’s happening,” she cries. Clarke itches her neck again. “And I’m, and I’m… neither of my parents are home. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Vaguely, she recalls instructions from her sex ed class. She needs to stay hydrated. That’s the only one she remembers right now. Why isn’t her brain working?

“Okay, go lock your front door,” he tells her calmly. Right, that was one of the instructions. Bellamy walks her through it all step by step. There’s some shuffling noise on his end and she swears she hears him going outside. “Alright, now go find the shirt I sent you last week and put it on.” Clarke sets the phone down to change out of her school uniform. She’s left in just panties and his shirt, and though the scent of the shirt has started to fade with all the times she’s put it on, it’s still enough that something in her relaxes.

“I did,” she whimpers as soon as she picks up the phone.

“Good girl.” A shudder washes through her and she falls back onto her bed. “I’m on my way.”

“Wait, what?”

“I can get there in less than four hours if I speed.”

Bellamy is coming here. It’s been four years since she last saw him in person, and some days, he feels more like an abstract concept than a real person. But he’s going to be here. With Clarke. Her Alpha is coming to take care of her.

She should protest. Tell him that it’s okay. He probably has a game tonight and something to take Octavia to in the morning. Bellamy shouldn’t just drop everything to come to her rescue. But the relief she felt when he said he was coming is too much, and she’s too weak to protest. And besides, isn’t this what an Alpha does? Take care of his Omega. This is what she wanted when she first asked him to claim her all those years ago.

“I need you, Bell,” she whispers into the phone.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m going to take care of you. That’s what you need, right? Me taking care of you?”

“Yeah,” she breathes.

“Hey, why don’t you take a little nap? Get those blankets just how you want them and sleep some. You’ll feel better.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t think she’ll sleep a wink. And blankets sound like a bad idea with how hot she is.

“Just stay right there, Clarke. Don’t leave the house or open the door for anyone but me.”

“Bell?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really coming?” Her voice sounds small and frail, kind of like it did the night she begged Bellamy to mark her. She wonders if he notices that and hopes he doesn’t. Clarke is scared, but she doesn’t want him to worry.

“I am already driving toward you. If you take a little nap, I could be there by the time you wake up.” A smile tugs at her lips. She’s scared of what’s happening to her, but the idea of seeing Bellamy after four long, lonely years perks her up. “Go to sleep, Clarke.”

“Okay. Call me when you’re close.”

Clarke does as he says and starts piling blankets onto her bed. He didn’t say anything about pillows, but she finds herself arranging a few extras on her bed too. Her mind goes blank for a while, too consumed in fixing everything just how she wants it. By the time it looks right, she has to admit she does feel sleepy. She crawls under the blankets despite feeling too hot for it, but it’s actually kind of nice under the covers. The weight feels good on top of her.

She must fall asleep at some point, and when she awakens, it’s dark outside and her throat feels dry. Clarke downs the rest of her water bottle and wipes the sweat from her forehead. Her panties feel damp with slick, and she pushes herself out of bed to change into new ones.

Her phone rings, and she shakily makes her way back to the bed.

“Bell,” she says, almost crying again.

“Five minutes away,” he tells her. “Did you sleep?”

“Uh huh.” She touches her clean panties, finding them to already be damp. The touch feels good in an achy sort of way. Clarke keeps rubbing over the fabric, feeling herself calm back down with each touch.

“Do you have food in the house? I can go pick something up if—”

“No, come straight here,” she whines. Though she presses down as hard as she can, it’s not enough to alleviate the ache between her legs.

“Clarke, are you okay?” he asks, and she can feel the panic in his voice. She wants to say that she’s fine, but she can’t lie to Bellamy.

“It hurts.”

“I know. Just a little longer. I’m in your neighborhood.”

Clarke jerks upright and stumbles to her feet. He’s almost here. Bellamy is almost here. Excitement rushes through her, making her forget about the pain and the sweat dripping down her back. Keeping the phone pressed to her ear, Clarke makes her way down the stairs. She just makes it to the door in time for Bellamy to say, “Is that a dent in your mailbox?”

“It was an accident. I just got my permit,” Clarke says, her chest fluttering because he’s here and laughing about her mailbox. She looks down at herself, realizing she forgot to put pants on. Bellamy’s shirt is long enough that it goes down to her mid-thigh, but it’s still not exactly the kind of thing she should open the door in. Plus, she’s not wearing a bra either. Her hair is probably a mess and her makeup from school is probably all smeared.

But when there’s a knock on the door, all those concerns fall to the wayside. She stands up on the top of her toes and looks out the peephole, and there is Bellamy. He looks just like he did in the last picture he sent, though his hair looks messier now. Clarke swings the door open, and he comes rushing inside.

He’s tall. Much taller than he seems in a simple photograph. He towers over her as he pulls her into his chest. She feels so small against him, just like she always has. It’s a strange yet familiar feeling. Just like the smell of him that floods her nostrils as she buries her face into his broad chest. He smells just like the Bellamy she remembers. Just like the shirts and sweatshirts he’s sent her over the years. But somehow more intense. His thick, smoky scent surrounds her and drowns out all coherent thought.

“I’m here,” he whispers to her, and his low voice rumbles through his chest like thunder. “Hey, look at me.”

Her head pops up, and those dark brown eyes meet hers. It’s so strange seeing him in person now. Last time she was this close to him, he was an awkward fourteen-year-old battling acne and cutting his hair too short because he hated his curls. Now, he’s filled out. His jawline is hard but the freckles on his face still make him look a bit like the boy she used to know. The dark thick curls have grown back out, as messy as she remembers from when they were young.

He’s looking at her too, maybe counting all the differences like she did. While he looks her over, Clarke feels something ache in her abdomen, kind of like the ache between her legs.

“Bell,” she whimpers, and his grip tightens on her back. “I need…”

“Shh, I know.”

Clarke is about to protest because how could he know when she doesn’t really know? Her mind is so jumbled and frustrated, and she hurts so bad that—

In a quick move, Bellamy pushes her hair back and presses his lips to her neck. It’s almost like a kiss, but then Clarke remembers that they’ve never kissed. Then, she feels his tongue run over the mark, and her jumbled thoughts dissipate. All she can think about his tongue soothing her skin and the feeling of his breath on her neck.

“Better?” he asks, and Clarke nods weakly. Bellamy removes his lips from her neck, and a whine escapes Clarke. “Where’s your room?” Clarke nods toward the stairs, unable to form the words. Bellamy picks her up with a certainty he never did as a kid. He would swing her around and always be on the verge of dropping her, but right now, it’s like she weighs nothing to him. Her arms wrap around his neck and she buries her face into it so she can keep breathing in his scent. Clarke’s legs drape over one of his arms, and his hand rests on her thigh to keep a grip on her. That hand burns into her skin so hot, but she never wants it to leave.

Once in her room, he deposits her on her bed and drops his backpack to the floor. The blankets on her bed are all messed up. Clarke tries to fix it as best as she can, but she’s too shaky to move much.

The bed dips, and she hears Bellamy whisper, “It looks really good, Clarke.”

“Yeah?” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own. It’s whiny and desperate and she hates it.

His hand finds her back, and Clarke breathes a little easier. When she looks at him, he’s stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. She lets his hand pull her closer to him, though it messes up the blankets.

“Yeah,” he promises, and she shudders against him. “Looks so good. You did so good.” Though she’s still shaking, Clarke beams under his praise. His hands are on her now, one on her back, the other on her neck covering the mark he left on her as a kid.

Bellamy tilts her head up, and when she meets his eyes, they look blown.

He moves toward her slowly, and Clarke holds her breath while he presses his lips against hers for the first time. Her lips tremble against his, and she feels like she’s crying. But why is she crying? She’s been waiting so long to kiss him. She’s loved Bellamy for as long as she can remember.

Maybe it’s relief. Sweet, beautiful relief. Hours of torturous heat and slick forming between her legs, and he’s finally here to take care of her. Just like he always promised he would be.

“I’m scared,” she admits when their lips part.

“It’s okay,” he whispers before kissing her again. “Your Alpha is here now.” Bellamy kisses her harder now, pushing her until she’s lying back on the bed. His weight sinks into her, and it feels so good that she cries even harder now.

_Her_ _Alpha_. Here. Surrounding her. Taking care of her. Keeping her safe.

“I need you, Alpha,” she whimpers, and a low growl comes from Bellamy. She’s never heard a sound like that before, but instead of scaring her, she feels more slick form at the sound.


End file.
